


Just Take My Hand, We Have Each Other

by TaikoTurtle



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F, Movie theater!au, POV Tara Chambler, Some Cursing, maybe in their late teens ish, nothing but fluff, rosita and tara, rositara - Freeform, they're also a little younger here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaikoTurtle/pseuds/TaikoTurtle
Summary: Based on the tumblr prompt:"I work at a movie theater and I’m trying to clean up but you’re still here ugly crying"





	Just Take My Hand, We Have Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> This one is dedicated to a friend of mine fallingwaffle, who I told I'd one day write a Rositara fanfic, so I finally got off my ass and did the thing.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Tara has a love hate relationship with movies. On the one hand, they bring her much joy and are a welcome distraction from the busy, stressful realities of her everyday life. They transport her to worlds full of wonder and to places beyond her wildest imagination, filled to the brim with excitement, love, and intrigue. 

But on the other hand…

“Yeesh, why are your prices so high? Who can even afford tickets like these, this is just outrageous! You should feel ashamed for robbing the public.”

Tara stares blankly through the smudged, weather-worn window with a forced smile plastered on her face and a dead, soulless look in her eyes. She wants to yell at the customer about how the prices aren’t her fault or how the concessions are just as worse, but screaming is generally frowned upon in just about every profession in the service industry, so instead she just bottles it up internally and slips one step closer to death. 

No screaming. Nope. None whatsoever. She can’t do that; she knows the rules. ‘Customer is always right’ and all that bullshit that somehow infected their society decades ago, but Tara can play along, Tara can  _ play nice. _ Besides, she’s put up with far worse than this before and she needs this job. 

Too bad money doesn’t grow on trees.

“My apologies ma’am, but unfortunately those are the prices for the evening. We do offer different rates throughout the day, including morning prices, matinee prices, senior discounts--”

“How old do you think I am?”

“N-no, I wasn’t--”

“Rude, absolutely rude.” The lady slaps a crumpled wad of cash down onto the narrow counter and purses her lips. “Give me three tickets to see Spiderman.”

Tara’s eye twitches but she masterfully maintains a thin smile as she responds with excessive pleasantry. “Coming right up.”

The transaction continues in silence as the little stubs print out one after another. Tara hands them to the customer who in turn snatches them up along with the change before ushering her kids to the entrance. Tara vaguely makes out more disgruntled comments from the lady and swears she hears a “kids these days” complaint muttered with disdain, but the next customer approaches the window and it’s back to business.

“Hi, how may I help you?”

“Can I get two tickets to Beauty and the Beast please?”

“Certainly, that’ll be thirty-two fifty.”

“No, no, that doesn’t sound right. The matinee says a ticket should only be twelve each?”

“Sorry sir, matinee pricing is only available before four p.m.”

“Well, why can’t I get it now?”

“It’s… almost seven p.m., so it’s regular price right now.”

“Oh, well, you should have said that in the first place. You should really tell your manager that these signs are very misleading.”

Tara can feel her eye twitching again, but hey, nobody’s perfect right? It’s not like like that information is clearly written in dark, bold letters on every ticket sign. It’s not like it’s common knowledge that if something is offered before a certain time, then you most definitely cannot still buy it three hours later for the same price. 

She takes a deep breath and prepares for another lousy night. 

She’s been at this job for about three months now, but it feels like it’s been an eternity. Tara knows the ins and outs of the movie theater like the back of her hand, like how she can spot a difficult customer from a mile away, or that small narrow gap between the rope and movie display props where kids try and sneak into the theater for free. It’s not an entirely terrible job though. She gets to watch a certain amount of films for free, her coworkers are pretty chill, and a regular paycheck to supplement her daily expenses are good enough for her. 

The only downside are the customers, but  _ goddamn  _ are they one hell of a downside. As much as Tara tries to see the good in every person, there are just some customers who love to test her patience. Whether they’re downright rude as fuck or unintentionally snotty in the way they carry themselves, she struggles every day to maintain a positive outlook on life whenever she dons her uniform and steps foot in this cursed establishment. And some of the things they ask her during every shift? Well, teachers always told Tara as a kid that there was no such thing as a stupid question.

Tara begs to differ.

“What comes in a large drink, large popcorn combo?”

“I just watched this entire movie but it was terrible and I don’t like it. Can I get a refund?” 

“This coupon is expired but I can still use it, right?”

Just… how… how do people like this exist? It’s a question that plagues Tara’s thoughts every time she has work, and when she thinks it can’t get any worse, the universe says “ha ha  _ fuck you _ ” and it does. 

But that’s all besides the point. Tara just graduated from high school and once she turns eighteen, she plans on applying to the local police department down the street so she can head off to the academy for training. It’s all she’s ever wanted growing up and despite her father’s strong vocal protests against his little girl heading off into such a dangerous profession, her resolve remained unwavering and true through the years.

However, none of that will be set in motion until her birthday, so until then she has some time to kill. Getting a part time job was one of the goals on her list, among working out and helping her dad with chores around the house. 

Tara munches on a power bar in the break room after a dismal three hours trapped in the box office on a surprisingly busy Thursday night. She only gets a fifteen minute breather before she has to head back out, but getting away from customers and not having to see them face-to-face is such a blessing that she never wants to leave. 

“Hey Tara, can I get your help with something?”

“What is it now?” She recognizes the voice immediately and sighs dramatically. Tara turns her attention towards Glenn and frowns. “Wait, lemme guess. Is it a buggy cash register? Popcorn machine on the fritz? Oh, oh, I know-- two kids having sex in the theater again!”

Glenn laughs heartily and pulls up a chair beside her, flipping it around so he can rest his arms and chin on the back of the support. He’s always been one of her favorite coworkers, mostly because he’s a genuinely kind guy and tends to share her cheerful disposition. He’s sporting a small goatee and mustache combination that looks more like scraggly unkempt peach fuzz and as much as Tara’s tried to tell him that it looks like a dying baby caterpillar, he keeps growing it out. Word on the street is that he’s recently started dating a girl named Maggie though, so he must be doing something right. 

Waving his hand dismissively, he shakes his head. “No, nothing like that, but it is a customer problem. I don’t know how to deal with this because I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Oh hell no, I’m still on my break. I’m not going to deal with customers right now.”

“But Tara, please you have to help,” he looks at her with pleading eyes, “there’s a girl sobbing her eyes out in theater eight and I can’t find any managers around and the next showing is in ten minutes and I’m freaking out and, and--”

“Okay fine, just calm your tits.” Tara shoves the rest of her power bar into her mouth and wipes her hands off on her vest. “But just this once, and you owe me for this.” 

“Thank you so much. I just, I’m so awkward around girls sometimes, I’m just afraid I’ll make it worse.” Glenn rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as they leave the break room and head towards the theater in question. “I tried asking her to leave earlier and she chucked a piece of popcorn at my face, so I panicked.”

“Oh my God you’re so pathetic,” Tara teases as she shoves him in the shoulder. “How are you ever going to get a girlfriend?”

His face turns a deep crimson and he stares at the ceiling with sudden interest. “Well I uh, you know. I sort of, already… got one.”

“So it is true!”

“What?” Glenn stares at her in shock. “Who told you?”

“I’m not going to say it was Sasha… but it was totally Sasha.”

“Ugh, she’s such a blabbermouth. That’s the last time I ask her for any advice.”

“Oh c’mon, she’s just excited that you’re happy - we’re  _ all _ excited for you.”

Glenn crosses his arms grumpily, but Tara sees the tiny shy smile spread across his face and she knows he’s anything but upset. Working in the service industry makes people grow close together - almost like a second family - because there’s nothing stronger than bonding over horrible customer experiences. 

They stop outside the double doors to theater eight and Tara already hears the faint noise of crying drifting through the air.

Casting her an apologetic expression, Glenn says, “Good luck.”

Yeah, Tara thinks, I’m definitely going to need it.

She takes a deep breath and steels her nerves before pushing through the doors down the darkened hallway leading to the theater. The crying gets louder and echoes off the walls of the emptied room, and Tara wonders what she’s getting herself into.

In all honesty, she’s never been any better at talking to girls herself. After having realized that she was into chicks sometime around the middle of high school, she found herself tripping up over her words more often than not and it’s lead to some embarrassing situations. One time, a girl in her biology class named Alisha had asked to borrow a few sheets of paper and in a panic, Tara blurted out “IDON’TOWNTHEPAPER.” 

Like, what the hell? 

What she meant to say was that she was all out and didn’t have any sheets on her, but of course she had to go and word vomit all over the poor girl with an ungodly loud voice delivered at the speed of light. Tara vowed  _ never again _ , because the strange perturbed looks that she received that day burned into her skin and bore into her memory like a terrible brand that she’ll be forced to carry around for the rest of her days. 

But who knows? Today is a new day, and Tara has a couple more years under her belt so maybe things will be different. Maybe the girl won’t be cute and just maybe Tara won’t feel like word vomiting everywhere. 

She pokes her head into the theater and sees the crying girl in the second to last row towards the top left of the theater, so Tara starts climbing up the stairs to reach her. If the girl has taken notice that she’s not alone, she sure doesn’t broadcast it in any way because her choked sobs get louder and louder by the second. 

“Um, excuse me, miss?”

Tara’s voice squeaks out wimpier than intended and she curses inwardly, but the woman doesn’t even look up and continues crying into her hands. 

“There’s another showing soon, you’re going to have to clear out.” 

Another wailing cry reverberates throughout the room and now new moviegoers start filing into the theater. They glance up at the source of the loud, offending noise and watch with mild interest at the situation. Tara frowns slightly and wonders what she can even do to possibly alleviate the situation. Did this girl just fail a test? Was she so overcome by the movie that she just couldn’t leave? Okay the latter seems far less plausible, but there’s got to be something wrong. 

Hey, maybe she should just ask her. No harm in that.

“Miss, is everything alright?”

At first, Tara thinks her question has no effect and that her words fell on deaf ears, but after several more seconds, the sobs gradually begin to fade and the girl sniffles softly before lowering her hands and looking up forlornly into Tara’s wide, surprised eyes.

_ Oh no she’s hot. _

That’s the only thing that runs through Tara’s mind before it short circuits and shuts down. She gulps audibly and suddenly appreciates that theaters have dim lighting because she can feel a heated blush burning up her face before noticing that her mouth has gone completely dry as a desert. Even in the low illumination, with her smudged makeup and slightly disheveled hair, the girl looks absolutely stunning. 

“I-- I… I uh… you need to leave.” Tara’s words spill out in a terse manner and she mentally kicks herself as the girl’s expression warps with confusion. 

_ fucking fuckity fuck shit what the hell are you doing?! _

Tara vigorously shakes her head to snap out of her delusional haze and tries again. “I mean, what I uh, meant to say is that I’ll talk with you outside if you need someone to listen, but we really need to leave because the next movie is about to start.”

_No regrets,_ Tara thinks as she shoves her hand out in an awkward gesture. The stranger stares at her oddly, her expression a guarded, volatile mixture of unreadable emotions, but the chatter of the new guests filling the theater catches her attention and so she nods and gets up from her seat. Picking up her nearly-empty popcorn bag with one hand and taking Tara's hand in her other like a life saver keeping her afloat in the frightening expanse of the open ocean, she follows Tara down the stairs and through the hallway, carefully tossing away her trash into a nearby bin. Tara leads her down another hallway and rounds the corner to a more deserted section of the theater and, after approaching a large bench adorned with cardboard ape cutouts for promotional purposes, sits down and pats the space beside her.

Tara doesn’t dare glance at her watch lest it set the girl off, but she knows she might get in trouble because she’s well past her fifteen minute break. She just hopes that a manager doesn’t pass by them and instead pushes that concern deep down and stares at the grungy patterned carpet beneath her feet. 

“So… um. What’s on your mind?”

The dark-haired girl sniffles again and wipes at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. In the brighter lights of the hallway, Tara notices that the girl is wearing an olive, lightweight flannel with a slate grey camisole beneath it, and along with a pair of dark skinny jeans and black leather boots she looks more fashionably put together than Tara could ever hope to be in her entire life. But the cloud of sorrow looming over the girl’s aura makes Tara’s heart crumble and though she’s beautiful in spite of the haunting sadness, Tara wants to do at least a little something to brighten this stranger’s day. 

They stew in silence and Tara leans back into the cardboard cutouts as she surveys the ceiling. One of the bulbs seems to be flickering and she makes a note to herself to tell somebody in maintenance to come check it out later. There’s weird flecks peppered throughout the old tiles and she briefly wonders where they came from. Were they cracks in the material from youngsters throwing shit at the ceiling in boredom? Or were they just signs of wear and tear?

“I’m sorry.”

Tara turns her head and looks inquisitively at the girl. “For what?”

She’s staring at her hands and twiddling her thumbs. Her eyes are puffy and red, but for the moment the tears have subsided and all she’s left with is a runny nose.

“I’m sorry,” she reiterates a little louder, “for… being troublesome, I guess. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Dude, it’s no biggie. As long as you’re alright, then we’re all good.”

The girl tilts her head and stares at Tara, her brow scrunched and her lips pulled into a thin line. “You don’t even know me. Why do you care?”

Her watery brown eyes search Tara’s, as if they could pull the truth out of her through just her gaze alone, but for Tara there’s no need to hide her intentions or reasonings behind her actions; it’s a simple no-brainer.

“Well, I think everyone deserves to have someone care about them. You seemed like you were having a bad day, so I thought you could use a person to vent to or something.”

The sincerity of her words seem to strike a chord in the mysterious girl and her eyes start to well up again with fresh tears. 

“You could have just kicked me out and been done with it.”

“What, and leave you wailing in the theater lobby like a banshee? You’d scare away all of our paying customers -  _ although _ ,” Tara draws out the last word, pausing briefly for added effect, “we could definitely hire you part time during Halloween. I’m sure you’d be a hit with the children.”

Tara makes a weird, guttural squawking noise that even  _ she _ doesn’t know where it came from, but the strain on her throat causes her to break into an abrupt coughing fit and she ends up choking on air. Pure, unbridled laughter escapes the girl’s throat and she swipes at her eyes once more, drying away any remaining stubborn, unshed tears. It was definitely not what Tara had in mind, but hey, it got the job done.

“You’re such a weirdo,” the girl says with a grin spread across her face. 

“Takes one to know one.”

“What are you, four years old?”

Tara dusts off her shoulder like a wannabe badass. “Going on five this year. I’m a big girl now.”

This draws more laughter out of the girl and Tara can’t help the broad smile from lighting up her face due to the girl’s infectious emotions. In the short amount of time that Tara has had the pleasure of knowing her, just the smallest ounce of happiness that radiates out of this girl seems to magnify tenfold and fills up the room like a candle in the darkness. She stares at Tara, her eyes twinkling in the light almost as much as her large, golden hoop earrings, and sticks out her hand.

“I’m Rosita.”

She takes the offered hand and feels her skin tingle on contact.

“And I’m Tara. Nice to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The weeks go on just about the same as usual, with the one exception being Rosita’s sporadic visits. Tara likes to think it’s because she’s coming to see her, but with each new week, there’s a new person at Rosita’s side and Tara reprimands herself for getting her hopes up.

The first week following their initial meeting, Tara spots her in line at the concession stand as she’s making her way towards the break room. Rosita’s looking around curiously, standing on her tippy toes trying to get a better view as if searching for something - or someone - but just as Tara gets the urge to approach her to say hi, a tall guy with short red hair and a well-built physique appears at her side and puts his arm around her waist. Tara lowers her hand and feels like she’s getting a bad case of heartburn, but damnit she didn’t eat anything spicy that day, so why does her chest hurt so much? Her shoulders slump heavily with the burden of crestfallen feelings and she instead drags her body back in the direction of the break room instead interrupting Rosita’s day.

It’s not like Rosita owed her friendship or anything. Tara was nice to her, as any decent human being should be, and they exchanged pleasantries. She reminds herself that just because they know each other’s names doesn’t mean they have to be buddies, but that also doesn’t make the agonizing imploding pain in her chest go away either.

The next week comes by faster than before and Tara bumps into her, like  _ literally _ bumps into her, as she’s passing by on clean-up duty. She has no idea how she completely didn’t see her, but Tara’s shoulder ends up clipping Rosita’s and a handful of popcorn comes spilling out of her overflowing bag.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, I can get you a new-- oh hey. Hi.” Tara sputters out an apology before realizing it was Rosita and upon recognizing her grinning face and familiar hoop earrings, Tara calms down a bit.

“What was that, hm?” Rosita hums happily. “You were going to get me a new popcorn you say?”

“You’re just trying to cheat the system. Nuh uh - No free shit out of me,” Tara responds playfully as she starts to sweep up the fallen popcorn pieces into the portable plastic sweeper. 

“Aw, not even just a small bag?”

Tara looks up from the ground and sees Rosita batting her eyelashes at her and as stupid and outlandish as that cartoony gesture is - because who even  _ does that _ these days? - it somehow makes her heart flutter and her stomach churn until she’s forced to look away. She goes back to brushing up the bits of popcorn and stutters a clumsy response.

“I mean… I-I guess maybe one bag. But only because you’re cool and I kinda like you and stuff.”

Rosita stops batting her eyelashes and for a moment her gaze falters. The cheeky smile previously adorning her face falls into a serious, pensive expression and there’s guarded thoughts swirling in the depths of her eyes that Tara just can’t make out because she’s never been all that good at reading other people. It looks like Rosita’s holding something back, or it could be nothing at all and Tara’s sorely misreading the situation, but regardless there’s a palpable tension hanging in the air and she’s finding it harder and harder to breathe.  

“No, that’s okay Tara. I was just joking, but it was nice of you to offer.”

There’s no more popcorn to sweep. No more distractions to command her attention. Tara stares into Rosita’s eyes and it’s like she’s become hypnotized by what she sees, because it seems like there’s a myriad of questions lying just below the surface waiting to be asked. Maybe neither of them have said anything because they don’t want to know the answers, or rather they’re just afraid of what they’ll find, but there’s so many mysteries to discover about each other if only they were given the chance.

“Hey Rosita, I was wondering…” 

Tara hesitates. 

Does she want to step down this path? She runs a quick pros and cons list in her head. At best, Rosita rejects her but they can still be friends. At the worst she crosses a line that scares Rosita away and that door to endless possibilities closes forever. Another option could be to just never say anything at all, but Tara knows that would slowly kill her inside and only delays the inevitable. 

“...I was wondering if we… if maybe we could--”

“There you are babe!” A rough-looking, albeit handsome young dude, comes strolling on over and slings his arm around Rosita’s shoulder, completely oblivious to the situation at hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought you said you were going to the bathroom?”

The words die in Tara’s throat and Rosita’s eyes widen. Her mouth parts ever so slightly as if she’s about to say something, but the guy shatters their connection and shovels a mouthful of popcorn into his mouth.

“C’mon, let’s go grab our seats, the show’s about to start.”

Bits of popcorn spew out of his mouth, punctuating each word with a flurry of crumbs, and Tara’s never been more repulsed in her life. 

“You guys enjoy the show. I’ll catch you later.” Tara picks up her broom and standing dustpan before making a hasty retreat like a lowly coward. Her feet thump heavily into the carpet as her legs take her far away to anywhere but here; she doesn’t bother turning around to face Rosita and witness her disappointment because she can practically feel it boring through her back from the silence that follows. 

Another week passes. This time Rosita approaches Tara at the self-serve soda machine - the one with an unreal amount of flavor combinations - and startles her so much while she’s restocking the inventory that straws and napkins go spilling all over the place. Tara’s angry for all of two seconds before realizing just whose laughter is ringing in the air, and the anger swiftly gets replaced with nervous excitement.

“A little jumpy, are we?” Rosita’s words lilt with light hearted humor and Tara realizes how much she had been yearning to hear her voice again. She doesn’t know if she made the whole thing up in her head, but it feels like the last time they saw each other, things had almost crossed into borderline awkward territory. She was afraid that Rosita would never come around again, but clearly those fears were unfounded.

Tara starts picking up the scattered items and places them in their rightful containers. “Maybe if someone didn’t sneak up behind me like a freaking ninja then I wouldn’t have to pick all this stuff up.”

“Oh just admit it, you totally missed me and my loud-ass crying.”

“What? Me?” Tara presses her hand to her chest as if taken aback, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “No way, I’d never miss you.”

_ Liar _ .

“Okay, sure, I see when I’m not wanted,” Rosita chuckles as she finishes filling her large cup to the brim with Coca-Cola. “But if you want to play this game, then I’ll never tell you a little secret of mine.”

“Like what? Fashion tips on how to go from beast to beauty in thirty seconds flat?”

“First off,  _ rude _ , I totally wake up every day looking this good,” Rosita states confidently as she winks at Tara, who in turn fumbles with a stack of lids because of a sudden heart palpitation. A knowing smirk spreads across Rosita’s face before she continues on. “Secondly no, it’s more of a question than a fact.”

Shoving the lids into their designated compartment, Tara’s brow knits in confusion. “How can you have a secret question?”

“Because I know it, and you don’t. Duh, that’s why it’s a secret.”

“Fine, I guess.” Tara rolls her eyes flippantly in response. “But still, a question?”

Before Rosita can shed any further light onto the mystery, a girl walks up beside them holding a tray of nachos. She instantly glares at Tara, who challenges her back with a mean look of her own, before nodding her head in the direction of theater two. The girl’s voice is gruff and no-nonsense, and oddly enough makes Tara’s blood boil even though she doesn’t even know her.

“Movie’s about to start.”

Rosita bobs her head in acknowledgment and the pair start to walk away, but not before saying over her shoulder for Tara to hear, “Maybe next time.”

Watching them pass through the double doors, Tara heaves out a sigh and tries not to let it weigh too heavily on her mind. 

“Yeah, sure, next time.”

Surprisingly, next time comes by faster than Tara imagined it would.

She finds herself working the box office on an average Saturday afternoon when Rosita’s figure fills the window and suddenly the stuffy, enclosed room doesn’t feel that bad anymore. Tara flashes her a smile and folds her arms across the counter.

“You’re going to go broke at the rate you watch films.”

“So sue me, I like the silver screen too much.” Rosita shrugs and smiles right back at her. She fiddles with her wallet and clears her throat loudly. “Hey so, what time is your shift over today?”

Tara glances at her wristwatch and groans, “Not over for another couple hours, unfortunately. I get off around eight thirty.”

Rosita grimaces, “Yikes, that does suck. But think of it this way: you won’t have to deal with the idiot kids at night, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tara agrees, “and kids are the worst sometimes. Once, I got chewed out by a mom who said it was my fault that her child had gum stuck in his hair.”

“What?”

“Mm hmm, get this - the kid grabbed a gross-ass piece stuck to one of the seats and because we as an establishment were ‘neglecting our duties’ she said that I was responsible for the mess and that we owed her free movie tickets as compensation for the emotional trauma.”

“No way, that’s ridiculous.”

“Yep. That’s what happens when you’re a worker standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

They both break into laughter over the insane story, but a guy in the line yells at them to hurry up so Rosita stares at the sign of show times once more before putting money on the counter.

“I’ll take two tickets to nine fifteen showing of Wonder Woman please.”

“Sure thing.” Tara rings her up and waits for the ticket stubs to print. “I heard it was an amazing movie, but I haven’t had a chance to see it yet.”

Rosita’s eyes light up. “Really?”

Tara opens her arms up and gestures at the room. “Working here kind of kills my love for movies sometimes, but also lately I guess I’ve just been a tad preoccupied.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll get to see it soon.”

“Yup. Maybe one day.” Tara hands her the tickets and wonders aloud. “Another date night?”

Rosita stuffs the tickets into her clutch and muses to herself. “You could say that.”

Collecting her stuff into her arms, Rosita saunters off towards the nearby food court and disappears in the crowd. 

As much as Tara loves seeing Rosita on a weekly basis, there’s also a small part of her that gets torn up because it’s not  _ her  _ by her side. Granted, she doesn’t know much about Rosita just yet, but she knows that she loves her personality and the sarcastic banter that they share, so Tara would love to get to know her on a deeper level. That’s the whole point of dating, isn’t it? To share stories with one another. To explore them as a person and learn what’s shaped them into who they are today. To find companionship.  These are all things that have crossed Tara’s mind before, and when she thinks of these aspects in life, the only person that occupies her mind is Rosita.

And then there's the conundrum of whether or not Rosita is even into girls in the first place. Tara's mostly seen Rosita with a boy attached at her hip, but then there was that one instance of that girl giving Tara the stink eye for no apparent reason. It seemed highly unwarranted, but if framed from a potential girlfriend perspective, it makes total sense. However Tara can't just outright ask her "oh hey by the way, are you gay? asking for a friend."

Yeah no, _that'll_ go over so well.

There’s far too many thoughts jostling around in Tara’s mind for her to focus, so instead she decides to shut it all off entirely and lock it away for the night, opting to finish the rest of her shift in a robotic trance. Strange faces come and go, and she’s pretty sure there was a furious elderly man yelling at her at one point, but she remained unfazed throughout like a champ. It wasn’t until Glenn shook her shoulder that she realized he was there to relieve her of cashier duty.

Taking out her till, Tara brings the money to the back and counts it all out before calling it a day. She reeks of buttery popcorn despite not setting foot near the concession stand and she wants nothing more than to go home, take a shower, and head off to bed, but after changing out of her uniform and into a pair of comfortable jeans and a T-shirt, a familiar figure catches her eye just outside the break room.

Rosita is leaning against a wall, studying her nails, until she spots Tara and waves her down. Tara looks behind herself skeptically before realizing that she really is calling for her and heads on over.

“Hey Rosita, what’re you doing here?”

She pulls out the tickets from her clutch and plants a hand on her hip as if striking a pose for a magazine shoot. “I got a movie tonight, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tara deflates a little, but tries not to let it get to her. She glances at her watch, noticing how close it’s getting to the show time, and scans the area but doesn’t see anyone heading their way. “I thought you had a date tonight?”

Biting her lip, Rosita nods slowly while keeping her gaze averted. “...I do. At least I think so.”

“You think so?!” Tara blurts out a little louder than expected. “Did he stand you up? How can you not know? You're literally already inside the building.”

“Well…” Rosita takes a couple of steps closer, her hands now held behind her back, and her head downturned. 

And wait... is that... a blush on her face? 

Since when does Rosita blush?

“...I think I have a date, but I don’t know because I haven’t asked yet.”

Tara’s heart starts beating faster the closer Rosita gets, and she hasn’t stopped stepping towards her this whole time. But no, there’s no way. It couldn’t possibly be her, right? That’s just, preposterous. Just wishful thinking - _projecting_ even. She just, there’s just --

Rosita wraps her arms around Tara’s neck and at this point Tara’s pretty sure she’s blacked out because five years from now, when people ask her how their first date went and who asked out who first, Tara would just laugh and insist that Rosita take it from here.

“I heard you haven’t seen Wonder Woman yet, and it just so happens that I have two tickets.”

Tara stares at her blankly and blanches. “Y-you. Why, but. Me? What?”

“Jeez you’re so dense." Rosita rolls her eyes and laughs. "Y es , I’m talking about _you_ , you big dummy. Will you go on a date with me?” 

“But. But why did you buy tickets. I work here.”

“Oh my God just-- is that a yes or a no?”

Tara still doesn’t know if this is real life or if she’s living some wild, vivid dream, but she pulls Rosita in for a tight embrace and she can’t argue with how warm she feels in her arms or how comfortably their bodies fit together. She wants to pause this moment in time, freeze it for all eternity so that she can remember how happy she feels right now, but then Tara realizes that they potentially have a whole lifetime of perfect moments to come and so she leans back a little and smiles.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up on tumblr too :) [Taikoturtle](http://taikoturtle.tumblr.com/)


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